


The Kind of Stuff that Only Prince Would Sing About

by Elva_Barr



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elva_Barr/pseuds/Elva_Barr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dubious Consent. Please check warnings inside before reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kind of Stuff that Only Prince Would Sing About

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a friend.  
> Warnings: unprotected sex, sex among characters who are underage but over the age of consent, rough sex, dubious consent, potentially offensive language, humiliation.

"Why me?" Mike breathes, regretting that he picked up the phone in the first place. Tina glares up at him and he shrugs, makes a complicated hand gesture - he doesn't really know what he's trying to convey with it, but when he saw Santana's name on his phone, he thought she might be in an emergency. Never mind that he is now in an emergency, since he was also still _in_ his girlfriend.

There's a pause on the other end of the line and he risks it, rolling his hips once, twice, oh my god that feels so -

"Because I've slept with every eligible guy in this school. And Kurt said no. Well, I don't think Sparkles would be the best candidate anyway. Listen, I know you're all Mr. Nice Guy but if you dropped the act for a second maybe you could screw some sense into me." Santana is clearly distressed on the other end of the line, and Mike feels bad for her but what is up with all of this nice guy bullshit?

He frowns and quirks his head at Tina to see if she had heard the conversation. She nods, whispers "your call, baby." God, he hates it when she calls him baby, and she knows it. He bucks his hips hard into her, once, twice, and he feels just turned on enough to growl his answer into the phone, talking quickly because he sounds ridiculous in his head but it's _Santana_ , ridiculous is the status quo.

"Thanks for calling me while I'm fucking my girlfriend. Are you hoping I'll fuck you just as good? Sunday, two o'clock. I'll fuck the gay straight out of you."

He fumbles to turn the phone off before collapsing in a fit of laughter on Tina. They giggle for a minute before she drags his hand down to her clit, and he reminds he that he knows how to do more than just make stupid puns.

*

Santana is on him the minute that they step into his - Tina's - room, and she is a really aggressive kisser. "Slow down," Mike says, "if you want me to be in charge of this, you have to let go a little."

Santana stops and looks at him. "Stop being nice and fuck me already, I want your _dick_ , this is not complicated."

'Nice' - god, that word is like some kind of trigger for him, he just wants to make her scream, and _not_ in the nice way. And what does it matter, anyway? It's Santana, she thinks she's so tough, she can take it. He's just a nice guy, right? What can he do, anyway? God, he really hates it when people call him that. They don't even _know_ him. He has uncharted depths. Fuck her.

He pushes her against the door and his hands clutch her elbows, straightening and immobilizing her arms all at once. "I guess you've done this enough times to know, you _slut_. You sure you can take me? Tina wasn't kidding around when she said I had a big dick." He leans in, breath tickling Santana's ear, "and I know how to use it, so you better walk out that door right now if you think I'm going to be nice."

Santana shudders against the door and she's about to say something, something scathing that'll just rip him apart (because, honestly, she's slept with the whole football team, does he think she hasn't seen a big dick?) when he pulls her towards him, his hands still gripping at her elbows, kissing her like he means it.

He drags her to the bed, zips her dress off without breaking the kiss. He slides it off of her roughly - damnit, she isn't wearing _anything_ under that, but Mike has been flabbergasted by worse, so he just moves his hands to her ass and pushes her down on the bed. Santana squirms beneath him and he guesses that she's taking her shoes off, but it doesn't matter to him.

He flicks his eyes down to her breasts - _wow, okay, those are definitely bigger_ \- and brings a hand up to tweak a nipple before derailing that train of thought. She doesn't want foreplay, she just wants 'his dick,' well, that's doable. Before Santana can moan and surge her chest up against his, he flips them around and pushes her down by her hair, pressing her face against the bulge in his pants.

She pulls down his gym shorts and when she pauses for a minute to stare at his dick, he tightens his hand in her hair. "It's not going to suck itself."

Santana wraps her lips around him and she brings one of her hands up to grip him at the base, but he seizes her wrist and keeps his hand around it, an unspoken command that he'll damn well speak if he has to. She can keep her hands to herself, he thinks, looking across the room at Tina, who is very quietly adjusting the strap-on around her hips. She smiles at him and walks forward, eyes dark when he shoves his hips into Santana's face.

Tina wraps her hands around Santana's hips and pulls her up until she's on all fours. Santana screams when she touches her, but the noise is muffled by Mike's dick in her mouth. She tries to turn around, cheek stretched out by the head of his cock, but Mike keeps her where she is, hand pulling her hair _hard_ when she struggles.

"I brought a friend, hope you don't mind. Figured a whore like you could take two of us at once, right?" She gulps around his dick, and gulps a second time when she feels something - something kind of big, at least as big as the cock in her mouth - at her entrance. Mike pulls her hair again, and doesn't start to talk until she's looking into his eyes. "I asked you a question. Can you stop sucking my dick for one damn second to answer me? Cockslut."

Santana pulls off of him, although she doesn't really have a choice when he's _directing_ her with his hand like that, pulling her around like she's some kind of doll. She tells herself that it's because she's angry that her voice quavers when she says, "Yeah, I - "

Tina doesn't let Santana finish her sentence before she's pushing in, not waiting for Santana to get accustomed to it because she doesn't want her to figure out it's just silicone, and frankly she's had enough of this bitch fooling around with everybody, including her boyfriend. She wants to growl at her, to tell her what a fucking tool she is for asking her fucking boyfriend to fuck her without even asking. Whore. It's not even a conscious decision, but before Tina knows it she's ramming her hips against Santana, fucking her harder than she thought she was physically capable of -- Santana moans pitifully around Mike's dick and Tina remembers that she's there. She nods at Mike, but he's looking at her already and he knows what she wants when she mouths _talk_.

Mike nods, and he looks down at Santana before winding both of his hands into her hair, close to the roots, and tugging it. "I don't think you're doing a good enough job sucking my dick," he says, "do you want me to help you out?"

He pulls her head up and down on his cock, and it's hard at first because Santana's resisting, too used to getting everything she wants. It's okay, he can flex his triceps a little. Tina smirks at him, but she's not even looking at his face, eyes fixed on the movement of his arms. Her hips are pounding into Santana's body, and she knows she'll be sore later, but it doesn't matter because she has a hard, steady momentum going. It's not even that difficult, because Santana's _really fucking wet_ so the slide is fast, too, just pumping in and out, unstopping, hard and fast to the rhythm of her whimpers around Mike's cock.

"Shit, you're crying," Mike says - _shit she's crying_ and he looks at Tina with a little bit of panic, because he can be mean but he's not a total douchebag. Tina looks down at where's she's fucking Santana and waves a hand at Mike, a silent sort of 'don't worry about it, she's just fine.' Mike nods at her and looks down at Santana, who's frankly kind of a mess around his dick, lips stretched open wide, blushing, eyeliner running down her face. "You can cry all you want." He smiles at her then, "don't worry, we're almost done here," thrusting his hips up and pushing her face down so she doesn't really have a choice but to take him all the way in, breathing harshly through her nose, "or do you still feel like a dyke?"

Tina throws him a scathing glance, pushing into Santana with a particularly harsh thrust, but he's not paying attention because Santana's throat feels so _good_ and really tight, shit, he throws his head back as he comes, hard, not bothering to warn Santana.

Mike pulls her off of his dick, and he thinks she's going to say something but she doesn't, she's too much of a mess to try to talk right now. She's just crying against his thigh while Tina pounds into her. Tina brings a hand down to Santana's clit, and just pushes with the heel of it until Santana's sobs turn desperate, and she's humping forward into Tina's hand and back onto Tina's cock until she gasps, wide-mouthed, a little bit of Mike's come dripping out from her mouth onto his hip, and a reedy little sound makes it out of her throat.

Tina pulls out, breathing heavily, and picks up Santana's dress. "What, you just wore the dress? _Slut_ ," she breathes, throwing it at her. "Get out of my house."

Santana scrambles to get off of the bed, looking wide eyed at Tina. She follows the direction, though, pulling her dress on. Tina walks closer to her and zips it up, pressing her strap-on against Santana's ass. She pats her shoulder, a conciliatory gesture, and says, "Sorry that you're still gay."


End file.
